The Commitment

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her release. Before she finished cresting he stopped the frantic touching. He lifted her as she moaned. As he carried her to the bedroom he had an irrational hope that the damn dog would stay out for a change.
    Miranda's eyes fluttered open as Drake laid her on the bed. Her face, soft and flushed, lips parted, stopped him. She'd given herself to him unselfishly. He wasn't sure he should complete the task.
    The throbbing in the lower part of his abdomen gave him notice that he did want to get on with it. Fierce self-control was the only thing that kept him from lowering his trousers and taking Miranda now while she was soft and pliable and oh so sexy.
    He curled his fingers into hard fists. His earlier reasons for wanting her had melted away. Now he wanted her to want him. When had his feelings shifted from cold planning to warmer caring? He couldn't think about that now. Now he had to get away from her before he did something both of them would regret.
    A soft swish of fabric stopped him before he got to the door. Miranda's hand touched his sleeve.
    "You can't leave yet," she whispered. Her eyes, huge and liquid, held him captive.
    Warm light from the living room spilled through the bedroom doorway. Her body glowed. Drake hesitated.
    This time she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her tight nipples touched his flesh where his shirt hung open. White heat shot through him. For a brief instant he was unable to move.
    He waited for her to break away, to laugh at him. Waited for her to push him out the door. He waited through an eternity of need for Miranda to somehow end what he had started. He waited for her to cast him out of her life. His heart pounded.
    Her hands crept under what was left of his shirt. Then his shirt was on the floor.
    He stopped thinking. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him as her kisses deepened.
    He'd never make it. He'd embarrass himself before he got his pants off. Perspiration broke out on his forehead as he settled her on the bed. He fumbled with his belt; groaned with relief as his trousers and briefs hit the floor.
    He plunged into her. Her moist wetness sheathed him, clenched around him. He gritted his teeth, determined to make this more than an animal coupling.
    Miranda moved against him, gyrating her pelvis to take in more of him. It undid him. With a hoarse shout he came.
    Through the haze of his pleasure he was aware of Miranda's deep, rhythmic orgasm. Time defined itself to that moment of shared intimacy. There was nothing else in the universe except her touch, her body and his together.
    Reality returned when something cold and wet touched the leg Drake had dangled over the edge of the bed. He jerked away then looked. Pumpkin's drooling face frowned at him from the floor. Disapproval arced from the dog's clear brown eyes.
    Drake shook his head. Pumpkin had no idea what was going on. He was a dog.
    Miranda shifted beneath him. Great, not only had he just ravished her, now he was pressing the life out of her. He rolled off with reluctance. She felt soft and warm and infinitely better than the cool sheets that caught his backside.
    He was afraid to say anything. What could he say? "Let's do it again?" Or what about, "Guess we consummated that, now."
    He stifled a groan as his loins relayed to his brain that they weren't quite ready to quit.
    He stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about it.
    Miranda's voice, quiet and devoid of emotion, zeroed in on the one thing he should have remembered. "I don't suppose you used a condom?"
    He shook his head.
    "Then you got what you wanted, didn't you? You did it without taking advantage of me."
    Her cool voice held neither judgment nor censure within the fabric of the words. That got to him. Shame and elation fought for space within him. Shame because he had planned her seduction, and got it. Elation because her response had been so much more than he expected.
    She had wanted him, had given

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